Secrets in the Darkness
by Lirulin-yirth-k'aio
Summary: About 360 years after the War of the Ring - and deeply AU /who would imagine a whole kingdom of mercenaries in Arda?/. A should-be sequel to "Just One More Truth" /"should-be" because JOMT is not published fully yet/
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:**__ The characters that are not mine are either J.R.'s or N. Vasilieva's. Those that are mine - are mine._

_**Author's note:**__ it's the same very-very AU story as in "Just one more truth" - but later._

_And again - special thanks to __my wife who inspires me in so many ways and to Mirach, who continues to kick my ass!_

*~*~*~*

Lomyrin hesitated for a moment before opening the heavy doors of the palace. After all, he was really late from his mission, and the last few days were spent not on the mission itself but on wasting his share of reward. Though king Eldir wouldn't probably be angry with him for that - or would even notice that someone should have returned to the city much earlier.

But wasting even more time on useless thought was no good, and he threw the doors open... just to face a very worried Shannah.

That was strange. Shannah was a quarter-wight, probably the granddaughter of Ungolianth, but nobody could tell that for sure. Though she chose a life path of an elf, not of a wight, her magical power was still overwhelming in comparison with the rest of the mercenaries. For that reason or some other she became a personal King's councillor - or more? - soon after she appeared in Osthauer. And like the majority of personal councillors of kings she was always calm as a snake. But now her eyes were shining bright green, and the lips were bitten to blood...

"How lucky you've returned, Lomyrin!" she exclaimed, rushing to the elf.

Lomyrin stepped back, subconsciously taking the defensive position. Who could foresee what she wanted and what happened during his absence to worry her that much. The worst assumptions arose in his mind - was the King assassinated? Or have the Valar suddenly declared war on Osthauer? Or have Shannah's distant relatives attacked the kingdom?

Not to remain silent and not to prolong the torture of knowing nothing, he asked almost indifferently:

"What's up, Shannah? You're worried - that's strange..."

"Take this - and read yourself. You'll understand then..." she said in the same nervous tone, handing him a carefully folded piece of parchment. Lomyrin took it and looked through.

"..should come... - he read across the lines. - "King's Mantle"... first day of fall... an errand... An errand?" - he raised his head. "But who is the customer? There is no signature..."

"I do not know who he is," Shannah answered. "But his envoy looked... impressive... Seems it's somebody of the highest rank... you'd better go to the temple and talk to Aine now. He might help you somehow."

"Yes, certainly..." Lomyrin answered, thinking of things quite far from that.

Who could need HIM? After all, who was he to be given such errands? Not a King, not a Prince... he himself would even say - by no means a Prince. And was not going to be. And still he was given an errand by someone of the highest rank – the privilege that belonged usually to the royal family of to the heads of clans. And the word "highest" seemed too vague and incomprehensible a term... the Valar?... the Yirthi? Who? And why should they need a mercenary? And ... why him?

"See you, Lomyrin!" Shannah turned back, heading to the King's chambers. "And good luck!"

"Thank you." he sighed, foreseeing the quick end of his long-lasting dream to have a short vacation. "Good luck is what we all need..." and still pondering over the strange behaviour of the mysterious "someone of the highest rank" he went to the palace temple - a half-secret place, where not everyone was admitted, a place from where the new religion of Osthauer grew some twenty-five years ago - and changed the kingdom.

Before that Osthauer was a kingdom of purely practical way of thinking, no beliefs and relying only on quick reaction, stealthy, keen blade and deadly poison…

Made up of exiles, escaped captives, renegades, scattered all over Beleriand, they were no longer light or dark… they were just surviving by any means and any price. They learned to be over-cautious, to trust no one, even themselves at times, to be merciless when needed… to care more about effective actions then about beautiful words and gestures…

Their leader and lord at that time was Ethel'mar, Namo's wayward maia, who as Suula before him chose his own ways… and his father's damnation. He turned away from the light… and the darkness turned away from him, not willing to drag him to death. These lonely, exhausted and wary ones, whom he met in the woods, became his only friends and the only ones whom he protected and cared for. Under his command they became stronger, eliminating every possible enemy around, be it a Noldorin patrol, troops from Ast Ahe or orc hordes.

The catastrophe that marked the ending of the First Age didn't leave Ethel'mar and his people intact. Some of them were killed in battles, some – by bristling elements… but some survived and had to move southwards. It was a long journey until they found a place where they could settle down and that place was in the caves in the White Mountains. These caves were not huge enough for the dwarves but suited perfectly the needs of the once again exiles…

But finding a new home was only the first step to normal living, and the second was finding what to live on. They could not grow anything in the caves, except perhaps some weird looking and mostly poisonous mushrooms… They could not rely on mining either, for there were neither rich ores, nor many gemstones there…

The only thing they had was their ability to kill others and survive themselves, so they had no other choice but to become mercenaries. First they took greatest hazards, eavesdropping here and there in search of someone who needed help of the ruthless, merciless and cunning, and if they learned about such someone, they were there to offer the help.

Sooner or later they became renowned with the certain kind of people, who preferred not to act themselves and were eager to pay any money for the dirty job to be done for them. Some even joined the mercenaries or just stayed near them to offer some help in return – food, clothes, weapons…

Gradually the number of the Osthauerians grew… they widened the limits of their hidden influence, spreading all over the world and becoming more powerful – and pickier about the missions. Playing their part in the world balance of powers they realized that some assassinations would be harmful for them as well as for the others… so they refused. But the reputation of them as of totally vendible and rotten-hearted ones lived on.

The only almost unreachable land for them was Valinor, full of ainur who might feel some mean thoughts and intentions, and though the most skilful mercenaries managed to succeed in missions in the Blessed Realm, there was always a risk of revealing too many secrets…

It all changed in the Fourth Age, with the coming of the yirthi or the wights – creatures almost unknown before and therefore twice dangerous. And the mercenaries became involved in the hazardous double game of the newcomers, firstly because neither the light, nor the dark would serve or pretend to serve the yirthi, and secondly because only Osthauerians could match them for meanness and guile. Eldir, the king of Osthauer, was chosen by Aivare, the son of Eru and Eng'Lliss, the Queen of the yirthi, to assist him in all his plans... But though the king accepted the errand, he still did everything he could to stop the almost unstoppable danger. He preferred to assist Aivare's half-brother and opponent, Telron, and those who were with him.

And while the whole world froze in expectations, apprehensions and silent indignation, the mercenaries were up to their ears in the confrontation between two groups of powerful monsters, pretending to be allies before each other's eyes. And only the mercenaries supported those of the wights who pretended to have killed all Valar and seized the world, in fact to protect it from Aivare.

When Aivare was finally defeated, the life in Arda slowly returned back to normal and the Valar were back in their places, the strangely born friendship between the wights and the mercenaries didn't fade. On the contrary the latter realized how much they had in common with the dwellers of the Void, now attached to Arda forever. Often they caught themselves on referring to the wights as the rest of the world referred to the ainur, as if nothing changed since the upheaval. Maybe it bore a shade of mockery as well as between the wights themselves, but the respect and homage were serious.

The wights paid back for the help in the hardest times – they offered Osthauer their own help, the same that others got from the valar and maiar in the old days… or maybe more than that.

No wonder the mercenaries soon built the temples and prayed the wights that once ruled the world…

*~*~*~*

In the dusk of the temple, Lomyrin's alertness and uneasiness became even stronger for some reason instead of calming down... But the elf reminded himself that he had no right to yield to this, and with his teeth clenched he passed a short corridor and peered into the hall. Aine was there, surrounded by statues, which, due to shades, dancing of the black marble walls and their own ever-changing light seemed alive...

He even shuddered and Aine having heard this almost inaudible noise came up to the mercenary smiling slightly:

"Oh, Lomyrin! Have not seen you for ages! How are you?"

"Well, not for ages maybe." Lomyrin chuckled. "Quite all right and what about you?"

"Not bad in fact." Aine said. "But... I've heard you've got an errand? And a difficult one I suppose."

The word "difficult" seemed too mild... though Lomyrin still did not know what the errand itself implied... but the client seemed to be trickier than the errand.

"Yeah..." he nodded somewhat miserably.

"Then you need assistance." Aine said meaningfully. "Special assistance..." and he nodded in the direction of the statues even more meaningfully.

"What do you mean, Aine?" the younger elf looked at the statues again. They still seemed alive.

"One of them..." explained the priest. "'I've been praying before you came... and they agreed to assist you... to share your possible difficulties. You can choose any... but only one so think twice..."

Lomyrin even forgot to breathe. He was offered the assistance of one of them - an honour much higher than being given an errand from the King of Arda even, though it would almost obligatorily imply the help of the wights...

In this point many might envy the mercenaries. No other people in the Fourth Age could at least sometimes ask a maia or a vala to accompany and assist them. Of course in common missions Osthauerians preferred to act on their own, still preserving some independence. But against something that a man or an elf could not cope with they needed help – and had it. Until now there were only a few cases when a wight accompanied a mercenary and these mercenaries were the heads of clans only, who being the most experienced and efficient, got the most difficult errands.

The elf was trying hard to perceive the very idea of such luck, not daring yet to think whom of them he would like to choose. He hadn't even seen them before... only once - a silhouette in almost complete darkness and at a considerable distance, so he was still doubting who exactly it was. Probably one of the former Priests... but who? Anyway it couldn't be called "seen".

He approached the statues slowly studying them carefully... and still doubting. Logically, they all had strengths as well as weaknesses... each one had this or that, but only one element at his disposal… and neither Lomyrin, nor Aine could not predict what exactly the elf would have to face, which powers would be more useful for him… if any. Possibly all he would need was simplest disguise or just a strong predator with sharp claws and little mercy. After some minutes of nearly painful attempts to take a sensible decision he just stood at the centre of the circle, closed his eyes... turned on the heels...

... And having opened his eyes again he found himself facing the statue of Daenar directly. "Well, if the fate decided so..." he said to himself. "It is not a good idea to argue with it!" He came closer to the statue... touched the marble folds on the wight's clothing and wanted to say something... but no sooner had his fingers touched the statue, a strange rasping sound filled the hall... the temple became lighted up with blood-red flash... and for some moments the air became unbearably cold…

The statue was there no more... what was in front of Lomyrin was a real live Daenar. He hesitated a moment, then took a step toward the mercenary.

"Did you call me, Lomyrin?" he inquired slightly insinuatingly. "I'll gladly assist you... but I need something in return..."

"Oh... what is it?" the elf tried to hide the pain and despair in his voice. There would be no help, he thought. What could he offer the person, who already has almost everything and what he has not, he can create or get himself?

"I would say "a piece of your soul" Daenar's eyes flashed green for a moment. "but it will kill you... So I'll ask you to give me two artefacts, that are kept in your training dungeons."

"What are they?" Lomyrin even smiled and sighed with relief.

"When we find them, I'll tell you."

"Well," he nodded. "Come on, let's go."

"Let's go." replied the vampire still insinuatingly, gazing at the walls and ceiling of the temple, examining the exquisite carvings on their smooth surface.

"Well, I'll just buy some necessary stuff." the elf added hastily, worried that the wight would not probably want to wait. "And we will go."

"Yes, of course" Daenar shrugged blankly, continuing to examine the temple walls.

Having glanced at him a couple of times, Lomyrin headed to Delian, who stood in the corner with a bored air. Delian came from Daedroth – the only other kingdom where the yirthi were worshipped instead of the valar. Founded by Alcar not so long ago, very far in the East, further than Khand and Harad, it was originally a community of runaway slaves and prisoners or exiles from the nearby lands, just like Osthauer was in the First Age, only Daedrothians put all their efforts not in killing and stealing but in crafting artefacts. Most daring minds, not fitting into less tolerant societies, worked out ideas so wild and weird that they were just doomed to be a success. Since the first artefacts that could bring their owners one or two steps up to the hitherto unreachable level of ainur or yirthi, the wish to continue rising and perfecting their skills never decreased.

Soon they began trading their artefacts to those who wished power and had money… giving certain preference and lower prices to their brothers in belief. The only trouble was the distance between the two kingdoms. Still Delian preferred to deal with Osthauer. He explained why he chose to travel constantly and so far very simply - his goods were valued properly only there. But Lomyrin had a strong suspicion that in his native lands he simply had not the best reputation... or there were too many competitors.

After a long inquiring about the prices and wondering at some very curious things that were however not necessary for him, he chose the ring, which provided some protection from possible magical harm - quite a possible outcome of working for "the highest". He had one of that kind before, but lost it together with a bet suggested by one of the most notorious of his friends... Having then stored enough antidotes for all cases from Terina, Delian's colleague and a countrywoman, Lomyrin turned to Daenar, who - to his great surprise - was persistently following the mercenary, as if he was merely a henchman.

"That's all, I am ready."

"If you run out of these potions of yours, I actually know how to heal too,» the vampire remarked as if incidentally. "Just a by-the-way note for you..."

"Thank you..."

"Not at all, I did nothing so far." he examined the claws on his left hand meticulously, but apparently was satisfied... nodded... and they went to the training dungeon.

When they reached the iron gate to the dungeon, Lomyrin turned back and asked a question that was whirling constantly in his mind since he heard what reward Daenar asked for himself.

"Why can't you get the artefacts yourself?"

"There are reasons..." was the elusive answer...

*~*~*~*~*~*

_TBC - one day..._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimers in chapter 1._

*~*~*~*~*

Under a rather peaceful and innocent name of the training dungeon went a huge labyrinth, larger than the whole city of Osthauer. The labyrinth was full of treasures, traps and monsters, all three unnumbered. Many were attracted by the former, but scared off by the two latter. Those who were not scared tried to reach the end of it - but only very few succeeded, some being made to flee from the foul creatures, hidden in the dark corridors, and some... some just didn't return. So nobody could tell for sure what was there, under the underground city.

Lomyrin was among those not very numerous who tried to walk through the labyrinth, but had to turn back, after one of his friends was dead and he the other - badly wounded. Now he watched the already familiar walls, lightened by the trembling magical flame - the gift of Ethel'mar, the ancestor of the royal family who was believed to be the creator of the labyrinth, to all dare-devils who decided to try themselves - and thought, that this time perhaps, he'd see what lies there, in the end of the endless journey.

The first battle ended so quickly, that Lomyrin didn't have time even to understand what was going on - first there were some evil looking little creatures, those name the elf didn't know - then there were ice needles everywhere, sharp and lacerated, and blood on them... and then there was complete silence and empty corridor.

The elf looked at his companion with such a puzzled expression that Daenar hemmed, flattered and slightly embarrassed at the same time, but said nothing. Still keeping silence they went further, killing rather easily whatever foul looking appeared on the way. Strange it might seem, but even in battles Daenar still managed to notice the traps and warn Lomyrin. Several times the elf stopped just half an inch from deadly threat - and watched the wight to disarm the trap with certitude and grace of a predator.

The trip went on without any awaited difficulties... until some living dead appeared from a dark breach in one of the walls. Though Lomyrin had seen such creatures before and had no fear of them, this time a sudden and unexpected wave of terror enwrapped him. He took a step back... turned away, not to see their awful faces with empty eye-sockets in which dim green light flickered... and rushed along the corridor, back to light and life, with no thoughts, no feelings but one - fear.

"Lomyrin... return... fear them not..." Daenar's mental voice broke through the veil of fear that covered the elf's thoughts. He glanced back. The vampire looked at him smiling encouragingly in the corners of his lips. The terror vanished... Lomyrin tried to attack the undeads one more time...

This time mad fear possessed him until he found himself in some dark niche, sitting on the floor, hiding his face in Daenar's shoulder and shivering uncontrollably. As he realized it and the memories of his retreat formed slowly in a whole picture, the elf withdrew quickly and blushed, escaping from meeting Daenar's glance.

"Have you calmed down already?" the vampire asked as if nothing happened, and Lomyrin blushed even more.

"Ready to go further?" Daenar continued.

"Yes..." Lomyrin nodded, trying to get rid of a dreadful thought that Daenar would just disappear after such a shameful event. But instead of disappearing the wight even helped Lomyrin to get up.

In nearly two hours the elf gained enough brevity to utter:

"You think probably how such a miserable creature like me became a mercenary?"

"Why should I? You're a skilled warrior and rather clever too..." the vampire shrugged his shoulders in the same manner as he did in the temple. "Is there anything that should change my opinion of you?"

"Well... after my so disgraceful retreat..." the elf answered almost inaudibly.

"It's quite a common thing when dealing with the undeads..." Daenar answered calmly. "It doesn't mean that you are a coward. It's just... bad luck that it affected you this time." he paused. "Once I was scared just as much as you were now."

"Really?" exhaled Lomyrin, not quite believing his ears.

"No, I'm telling lies!" snarled Daenar in response. "And stop thinking of your disgraceful retreat as you call it. If you don't, you'll surely impale yourself on someone's claws or weapons... and that will be much more disgraceful an event for you as a mercenary of rather a high rank..."

Lomyrin felt better suddenly, though he was hauled up like a green freshman, and smiled.

*~*~*~*

At the end of the second day of their journey Lomyrin began yawning and so did Daenar, to the greatest surprise of the elf, who was perfectly sure that the wights sleep very rarely - if ever do. They were said to be able to have no rest for months… to feel no weariness… but this one looked like he was very tired.

"Shouldn't we have a rest?" he suggested at last.

"Good idea!" replied the vampire with a smile and his fangs glistened in the torchlight. "Otherwise you'll wrench your jaw, I'm afraid..."

"You'd better mind yourself..." thought Lomyrin, having forgotten that the wights hear other people's thoughts well.

"Yes, I'm tired too and it becomes more and more difficult to think and react quickly enough." came the calm mental answer. "We'll just find some suitable room now..." he added aloud.

The room was soon found and the monsters there eliminated. Wiping his sword, covered with blood, on one of the victims, Daenar turned to Lomyrin.

"Are you going to sleep standing?" he inquired with a wink.

"Of course not!" the elf answered and hurried to prepare some place for sleeping while Daenar created the supper for both of them. Lomyrin, watching him from time to time, tried hard not to think of how useful a wight-companion can be on a mission. This though heard could possibly offend Daenar, and that was what the elf wanted the least of all.

After supper that was really well created - and noone unaware would say that it was created, not cooked in a more natural manner - and mutual wishes of good night, pleasant dreams and placid waking up, Daenar lay down in the corner wrapping himself in a cloak and soon was asleep. Lomyrin watched him for some minutes, pondering over the great changes in his life that took place in recent days, but then the exhaustion took over and he went to sleep too.

To one more greatest surprise of Lomyrin he woke up the first. The vampire was still sleeping peacefully and didn't look dangerous at all. This seeming serenity made the elf venture upon a step he wanted to make from the very beginning of their journey - to check how sharp the wight's claws were.

Carefully, trying not to wake him up Lomyrin touched one of the claws with his fingertip and a slight scratch appeared on the skin. The elf thought that if someone were unlucky to be hit with these claws with a considerable strength that Daenar possessed... that someone would be really very unlucky and torn to pieces.

Deep in his thoughts he didn't notice that he was holding Daenar's hand and slightly caressing the cool fingers and sharp claws. When another scratch made him return to reality and he saw what he was doing, he immediately dropped the vampire's hand and it fell on the floor with a loud rasp of the claws against the stone.

It woke the vampire and he sat up looking around and ready to fight anything and anybody. Lomyrin, startled with such a quick jerk, moved further away from him.

"There's no danger..." he whispered hastily. "Calm down..."

Daenar looked intently and doubtfully at his hand... then at the elf.

"I was... I just..." Lomyrin realized that the words escaped him in the most treacherous way.

"What's wrong with my hand?" demanded the wight.

"Nothing... I just wanted... to look at the claws... closer..." he thought that it was becoming a bad habit of his - to blush to the roots of his hair, and as the habit was bad, it was not going to leave him easily. So he blushed again, cursing himself inwardly, while Daenar scrutinized him like some rare curiosity. At last he uttered:

"To look at the claws closer? That's all? And... what for?"

"Well..." the words were still escaping Lomyrin. "I... I was just curious.... I never saw such before..."

"And you dared not ask me to show them? You thought that stealthy would serve you better in this case?" Daenar chuckled. "Though it's rather in your, mercenary, way..." he stretched his hand out to the elf. "You may watch as much as you wish. And remember - you may trust me even if you don't trust anyone in the world..."

"Thank you," the elf muttered examining the claws one more time.

"Not at all. And let's go... or do you have an intention to settle down here?"

"Not for all the cakes and Silmarils! The client is waiting!" replied Lomyrin.

"Not waiting yet..." Daenar corrected. "But will wait, if we don't move. And I didn't consider making him wait a good idea."

And so they went on, through traps and monsters again - until they reached rather a small door, locked with a considerably huge lock.

The elf and the wight looked at each other.

"There should be something..." Lomyrin whispered.

"And something must be dangerous - or too good to be true." Daenar added. "Anyway, it's interesting... are you ready to go?"

"Of course!" was the reply. The thought about some wight being too curious was thrown to the winds as not the proper thing to be thought.

*~*~*~*~*~*

_TBC - one day..._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimers in chapter 1._

*~*~*~*~*

No sooner had they opened the door and entered a large cave-like hall, deadly freezing air enveloped them. It was so cold that for some time Lomyrin could neither breathe in nor utter a sound. Even Daenar, who followed him, coughed slightly, having choked on the icy air.

"What is... this place?" whispered the mercenary at last, his voice hoarse and harsh.

"I don't know..." the vampire replied, looking around with great interest. "But I like it in here..."

"But it's cold..." Lomyrin contradicted dully.

"It's my element." the wight replied. "Still... I did not know that there is such a place under your city. It seems..." he tried to pick up words. "...not very... natural."

Not very natural were too mild words to describe the place. It was vast, all covered with snow and surrounded by ice rocks, clear and glistening in the dim light that emanated from the snow. There was some kind of a shrine almost in the middle of the cave but there were no signs whom it could belong to. Beside the shrine a table with three chairs stood right in the snow...

"It's madness..." Lomyrin thought.

"Perverted imagination is more likely." Daenar corrected him taking a few steps towards the table. "Very perverted. I wonder who could it be who created all this... place."

"Probably it was Ethel'mar... he created the labyrinth and this cave is a part of it." the elf mused.

"Then he is a weirdest maia ever!" the vampire concluded. "Though Namo's maiar are all a bit weird..." he paused. "Let's examine this place more thoroughly..."

Lomyrin looked at Daenar's cloak riming quickly, then at his own doing the same. Yes, the place was weird.

"Are you cold?" he asked at last walking to the ice rocks.

"Not at all!" was the reply. "It's my element, haven't I told you already? Though you should have known it before I came to help you." the wight grumbled. "And are you cold?"

"No, I am not either..." the elf murmured slowly taking off the glove and then the ring. In the next moment he felt terrible frost biting his skin like thousands of angry and hungry little beasts, and the air he breathed in burned his lungs. Shocked by sharp pain he quickly put the ring back and sighed with relief.

"Don't do that again!" Daenar sneered mentally. Lomyrin nodded and walked further until they reached the light spots rising from the snow.

In less than no time he felt like falling somewhere... and found himself and a narrow ravine between two high walls of pure ice... and he was alone.

"Daenar!" the elf called. "Daenar, do you hear me? Where are you?"

No answer came... Lomyrin called again and again, but the result was the same. He tried to call the wight mentally – still no answer…

An urge of panic engulfed the mercenary. He could not understand what was happening and he feared that Daenar might be lost… at least for him.

Soothing himself with the thoughts that there was nothing he could have offended the wight with, Lomyrin went along the ravine hoping to find an exit. But instead of the exit he found… some creatures looking like enormous salamanders, menacing and totally repulsive. In a moment the creatures disappeared and only a hissing sound revealed their presence to the mercenary.

Realization of a terrible truth came to him – he encountered some wights… only they could conceal themselves in such a way, being embodied still… and the other wight, who could protect him, was gone…

There was no other choice yet but to fight, though fighting the invisible seemed not an easy task, so Lomyrin stepped back until his back touched the ice rock.

The hissing approached but several blows that Lomyrin made missed the target.

Then there was a flash of light and sharp pain piercing the elf's body… and in that light he saw ghostly silhouettes of the monsters and hit again. The air filled with stifling smell of the wight's blood… Lomyrin hit again and again, though the enemy was not visible again. The empty place hissed and growled but was obviously not going to die. Moreover, invisible claws stroke back, leaving deep scratches on the elf's armour.

Lomyrin realized all uselessness of this fight. He could continue of course but there wouldn't be any progress… the monsters regenerated quickly and before the next strike reached the target that wounds from the previous were already almost healed. And when he was exhausted at last they would surely attack… and get rid of him very easily.

In morbid and despairful thoughts that he would be one of those who never returned from the dungeon, he stepped aside, to the place where he had found himself first...

...and again he felt like falling... and was back in the coloured light dancing in the air... and Daenar was there, pale and worried beyond measure.

"Where have you been?!" Lomyrin demanded totally unrespectful of his companion's godly status.

"I was here... I saw you disappear but I could not follow you... I didn't feel your presence..." the wight explained.

"I called you... and you didn't answer." the elf frowned.

"I haven't heard anything, Lomyrin. I worried that it was some kind of a trap." Daenar looked up the huge rock towering over them. "Did anyone attack you there?" he inquired.

"Exactly!" Lomyrin replied. "And I alone cannot harm them…"

"Who are they?"

"Your kinsmen." the elf sighed. "They are invisible for me, I strike just at random...but that is of little use, they regenerate too quickly."

The wight sneered with a shade of menace. "Let's get there together before they have disbanded…"

"But how...?"

"Take my hand... and pray it works..." the vampire replied dryly.

Lomyrin stepped into the light once more and again he was in the ice ravine where the monsters, outraged by his disappearance, hissed and waited for their prey to return... but the prey was not alone this time...

Daenar fought violently as Lomyrin had never seen before, and though the battle was not an easy one even for him, soon the victory was his - shared by Lomyrin who assisted as much as possible. After that the wight cast a disgusted look at the corpses, turning into ashes, and spat in their direction and uttered some curses and insults to them and all their ancestors up to the first ones.

When he had no more words in stock, he turned to the mercenary and said, "Don't ever call _them_ my kinsmen."

"I am sorry... but weren't they..." the elf muttered.

"Yes, they were wights as I am. And it is not about that I was born a pureblood ainu. It is about our life principles that are rather different despite our similar nature..." the wight replied with softness that concealed rage burning inside him. "They are our enemies... and war is the only thing that we really have in common."

"I am sorry…» the elf repeated. "I didn't realize that it was so..." he stopped unable to find the right word, but Daenar understood him without any words.

"We all make mistakes." he said blankly... then looked at Lomyrin very intently and asked:

"Have I hurt you that much?"

"What do you mean?" the mercenary stared at his companion with astonishment. "No, you haven't..."

"But you are so pale..." the vampire frowned... and sniffed the air several times. "Ah, I see... it's not me who has hurt you. And you were trying to conceal your injury from me... don't know why."

"I didn't... it is only a scratch..." Lomyrin shook his head to drive a sudden wave of dizziness away.

"I fear that it is a bit more... take your armour off." the expression of Daenar's face left no chance for negotiation.

"But it's cold... and ice is your element, not mine!" the elf contradicted.

"Take your armour off I said!"

Not to make the wight angrier Lomyrin took off his gloves and began to untie the straps on the armour with slightly trembling fingers. Daenar watched him with a blank face, neither moving nor offering any help. At last when the heavy plate fell on the snow, revealing the widening spot of blood, contrasting with the light-grey garb, the vampire hissed under his breath and approached the elf so quickly that Lomyrin stepped back involuntarily.

"You are acting bizarre!" he muttered, panting and looking intently into the wight's eyes. For some moments they were absolutely black and almost mad... Then Daenar blinked and his eyes became normal again.

"It's the smell of blood..." he explained in a husky voice. "Sometimes it's very hard to control myself... but you should not be afraid... I will not harm you. Never."

Lomyrin relaxed a bit.

"Are you going to heal my wound?" he asked quietly.

"Yes." the wight replied evenly. "Sit down please."

The elf obeyed and sat on his own cloak lying on the snow. Daenar knelt near him, biting his lips, and reached to remove his tunic.

The elf held his breath imagining to what extent of madness a view of an open wound could drive the vampire... But by some enormous effort Daenar pulled himself together and remained quite sane, only very pale. He carefully wiped off the blood and examined the wound.

"That's what you call a scratch? What is a serous wound then?" he sneered, gently touching the lips of the wound with his fingertips.

The pain retreated... dissolved... disappeared... as well as the wound itself. Lomyrin looked at the wight with a questioning expression.

"I told you before I could heal..." Daenar whispered...

But then a smell of wight blood explained more to the elf.

"You've taken my wound to yourself!" he frowned and glanced at the wight with indignation.

"Yes, I did." Daenar nodded.

"It's not healing... it's..." Lomyrin clenched his teeth.

"It _**is**_ healing - the only that we have... but don't worry. On us the wounds repair quicker." he said matter-of-factly and shrugged his shoulders. "See?" he scratched his palm with his own claws and showed it to Lomyrin then. The bleeding scratches were disappearing right before the elf's eyes. "You may dress again by the way..." the wight added. "Or was it not you contemplating about cold?"

While dressing the elf noticed a small purse attached to his belt. He remembered clearly that he didn't have anything like that before.

"What the..." he began, but Daenar interrupted him.

"Oh, I am sorry I have forgotten to tell you anything about it. Look what's inside..."

The mercenary, puzzled and frowning took a gem out of the purse and examined it thoroughly. It was dark, almost black, with blood-red and violet flickers inside.

"Is it some artefact of just a jewel?" Lomyrin glanced at his companion suspiciously.

"No, it's not an artefact... not quite... It is more like my signature under the contract between us. The only power it really possesses is that it will take you to the place where my soul will be after I am disembodied."

"Disembodied? " Lomyrin thought. "Oh, yes... of course. They do not call it death... though it is not death for them… or for ainur. I wonder how it feels being alive but without a body…"

"I would tell you that you'll feel it once…" Daenar sighed. "But I don' want you to die. For _**you**_ it would be death, not disembodiment…"

"But I thought the wights can embody again right where they were disembodied... or wherever they wish..." murmured the elf.

"We can." Daenar sighed. "But we may not. There are... certain restrictions…" he explained vaguely. "So we have to use such... ruses."

"I see... but I hope I will never need to use it."

"I hope too!" the vampire sneered.

The elf put the gem back into the purse and they went further - to be attacked by several skeletons, revived by magical powers. The powers probably belonged to the skeletons themselves but despite these powers, which they didn't hesitate to use, they were scattered all over the place soon, bone-by-bone... The only one who remained was a scull with weird lights in his eye sockets, levitating freely in the air.

The scull turned out to be practically invulnerable both to Lomyrin's mace and to Daenar's magic, its spells being on the contrary rather effective.

Blinded by a flash of light Lomyrin turned away for some time, blinking and wincing but when he was able to see anything again, he saw a most awful sight - Daenar's whole body began bleeding so badly that in some moments the snow around him turned black and began melting and evaporating. A lightning that struck the wight in the chest, finished him off... and with a short cry of pain and anger he began falling, but before his body reached the snow it turned into glistening black ashes...

...for a moment everything was absolutely silent...

...and then a mighty wave of energy, restrained no more, threw Lomyrin far away into the snowdrift.

Before the scull noticed him, the elf began crawling further away, searching for the purse with Daenar's gem.

"How odd and awful... no sooner had we talked of it, it happened..." he thought with a heavy heart still crawling further and feeling unpleasantly surprised at how quickly he got used to the wight's being with him. It was safer... more secure... it was simply easier in many ways…

The scull left all alone began searching for the second opponent that disappeared so unexpectedly. It flew around in a widening spiral. Several times it was very near to the elf, and Lomyrin ducked behind the snowdrifts his heart stopping for an instant as he thought he was noticed…. But the scull either didn't see or feel his presence or… wanted to make the game longer and more thrilling. And it was really becoming thrilling, as the space outside its track grew smaller with each new turn of the spiral.

At last Lomyrin reached a bookcase that was standing without any reason or purpose on the edge of a cliff. It could be a place to hide, maybe not the best but better than snowdrifts.

Trying hard not to pant too loudly the elf slipped behind the bookcase and sat on the snow leaning against the frozen wood and rows of books. He closed his eyes and sighed with the realization of his not knowing how to make the gem work, and another wave of despair overwhelmed him, but only for a moment. He had to do something if he wanted to save himself and return Daenar. Still trying to be quiet he took the wight's gem out of the purse...

Then he looked through the gap between two books to see what the scull was doing… and startled. The damned thing was right in front of the bookcase, as if staring through it, and Lomyrin could swear that the scull's face expressed cruel joy. It found what it was looking for… Then it slowly flew around the bookcase.

With a stifled cry of anger Lomyrin squeezed the gem that could be so helpful, yet was so useless, in his fist. He needed his companion back with him... and he wanted to get out of the icy cave.

The already familiar feeling of dizziness and falling made him startle and wince, closing his eyes not to see the world going round - and very quickly. When he opened his eyes again he thought at first that he remained where he was - the same snow, the same ice rocks, the same dim light... and silence.

Some moments later he heard two quiet voices one of them was Daenar's.

"No, it is really nothing serious, father!" he said.

"I know too well, what your "nothing serious" means!" the other voice replied in a slightly grumbling manner. "Tell at once, what trouble you are in this time!"

"I was just helping one mercenary!" the vampire explained. "And we have woken up somebody… or something weird. And I met with a slight mishap…"

"So you call it a slight mishap? Being disembodied…" the second voice sighed. "Is it the one whom you are helping?"

Lomyrin turned around at last. Daenar was standing just some steps away from him, safe and sound, and beside the wight…

The mercenary thought that he should have guessed right from the first words, that the second voice could belong to no one but Melkor, if Daenar addressed to him as "father".

"Even better this time…" the elf sighed inwardly. "First I meet Daenar, now Melkor… whom else am I to see on this mission?"

"Yes, that's him, father…" the vampire replied and turned to Lomyrin. "I am glad that you have come here so soon. Does it mean that you still need me?" he sneered.

"More than you can imagine!" the elf smiled. "But what shall we do with that damned scull?"

"I have absolutely no idea!" the wight shook his head. "Seems we have found an exceptionally immortal being. Not living already…"

"If no magic can harm it and I am not strong enough to leave at least a scratch on it... maybe your strength will be enough?" the elf suggested.

"I've got the point…" Daenar chuckled. "Let's go…" he turned to Melkor again. "See you later, father."

"See you…" the Vala replied with a subdued sigh. "Though I'd prefer to see you in any other place than this. Here I want to see nobody…"

The vampire only sighed in response and pulled Lomyrin by the hand to a softly gleaming portal.

"Will it take us back?" the elf asked, hesitating to enter it.

"Yes, yes, let's go…" Daenar looked slightly nervous. "I don't want to get stuck here forever!"

The portal really returned them to the place where Lomyrin had used the gem, and while the mercenary was pondering over the strangeness of these teleportations and hundreds of laws of nature broken by such actions, the wight unsheathed his sword and attacked the monstrous scull. He didn't pay attention to the new wounds he got, just stroke and stroke without pausing, and the same rage was in his eyes as it was when he fought the salamander-like wights in the ice ravine.

Lomyrin rushed to his aid at first but then stopped, fully aware of his uselessness in this battle, and waited in a distance till the scull was crushed at last and its pieces scattered in the snow. Then Daenar approached the elf with a sneer.

"You should not stand in a snowdrift for a long time! You may catch cold… Let's get out of here before we encountered something like that thing… or worse. I didn't like it."

"Neither did I!" the mercenary made a disgusted face. "But what was it and why was it so invulnerable?"

"I don't know, but it seemed to have something in common with us." Daenar murmured thoughtfully and gravely. "Though it looked a bit strange."

Lomyrin glanced at him, frowning slightly.

"Maybe that was the way of frightening the potential victim?" he suggested.

"It is not only the appearance that seems strange to me." Daenar shook his head in disappointment. "As I've said, it had something in common with the wights, but it was only something, and the rest of its essence is totally unfamiliar to me..."

Silence fell after these words and remained for quite a while.

"What a nice trip!" the elf murmured sceptically at last. "We should really get out of here…"

"Are you afraid?"

"No." the mercenary replied dryly. "But here may really be some more of these creatures and I don't want to find out how many of them are enough to make us both stay here forever, cold and dead…"

"I think I would try to drag you out of here anyway." The vampire remarked. "But the mission would be ruined even before its beginning…"

They went back to the door linking the cave with the rest of the training dungeon and went out almost running. Daenar hesitated only for some moments and then slammed the door shut, adding some spells that prevented it from opening again – from inside the cave.

"I don't want these things to fly wherever they wish." he explained. Lomyrin looked at him… then at the door… chuckled… and burst out laughing with slight hysterical notes in it. The wight waited patiently for some five minutes of so and then sprinkled him with a bit of snow to return to reality.

For an instant the elf stood like thunderstruck…then he glanced at the vampire flabbergasted but sensible again.

"Phew!" the wight smiled. "I thought that you've gone completely mad."

"No, it's just… I have…"

"You've had too much of jitters…" Daenar finished the phrase. "Well… in fact it was worth jittering…"

And with a meaningful expression he went back to the crossing of two corridors where they chose another one then…

*~*~*~*~*~*

_TBC - one day..._


End file.
